


Errant Excursion

by RhymesoftheRenegades



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Lots of subterfuge, canons colliding, the Errant Venture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 18:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhymesoftheRenegades/pseuds/RhymesoftheRenegades
Summary: Thane Kyrell and Ciena Ree hunt for an Imperial war criminal aboard a freelance star destroyer on the edge of wild space. At the same time, another pair of veterans from both sides of the Rebellion make a risky move to eliminate a dangerous enemy. And they're both looking for the same man.





	1. Chapter 1

**This takes place in the same universe as my Distant Stars story, but you shouldn't have to read it to understand this. This thought came to me as I was having some writers block on my other story, and is only going to be a short story. The idea was 'how many references to different canon universes can I fit into a few chapters' and 'what characters do I most want to see more of.'**

 

Thane Kyrell pulled himself into the co-pilot seat with a moody grunt, eyeing the nav computer readings as they counted down to their destination. “Just a few minutes till we drop out of hyperspace; then find out if there's anything worth seeing on this backwater.”

Ciena Ree sat attentively at the pilots controls to his left, and sparred him a wry glance. “I'm not sure a native of Jelucan should be calling any place a 'backwater.' It's more like we're coming home really.”

“Oh, this Baros place is even more out of the way than Jelucan, we're practically in wild space already. It's the last place in the galaxy anyone would hide.”

“Therefore,” Ciena countered. “It's the perfect place to hide.”

Most of the trip had been spent politely having arguments like this; either about the likelihood of finding anything, or the extent of guilty responsibility

Because Ciena, in her heart of hearts, still carried around deep-seated sense of guilt over her service to the Empire. For the year and a half sense her unceremonious release from New Republic custody, she'd made it her mission to personally make amends for every Imperial atrocity that was now coming to light across the galaxy. The New Republic fleet was no longer willing to take in former Imperial loyalists, and was another victim of the galaxy wide military downsizing anyway, so she'd dove right into community services.

First there was the reconstruction of Lessu City on Ryloth, then teaching basic to bodach'i ex-slaves, then a series of funding drives for displaced war refugees that had spanned half the Mid Rim. Time and again she had reminded Thane that no one but her needed to carry out this self-appointed martyrdom, and he didn't have to come along. She kept saying it like she thought there was actually a chance he would listen.

But this newest mission was different. It must have been a million to one odds, Ciena kept throwing around sayings like 'there are no accidents;' but they had turned on the holo news one day to see a feature on a neighboring Imperial world that still refused to acknowledge the New Republic, and spotted a familiar face in the background of one.

Hernan Gran had never been a household name; but he'd had a vicious reputation in the Imperial military, and sat somewhere at the top of the New Republics most wanted list. A colonel in the stormtrooper corps, with ties to the Imperial Security Bureau, he'd directed policy on suppressing local dissents for a large chunk of the Mid and Outer rims. He had been linked to the Teardrop City of the Hills massacre, the burning of New Cov, and the Kothlis work camps, to name just a few. He'd been MIA since some time after the Battle of Endor; but now there was a chance he might be hiding in the Outer Rim.

They'd sent messages to the New Republic authorities of course, to every connection they could find in the military and the senate, but Thane wasn't holding his breath. Sure, the Republic might be lightyears better than the Empire, but it was still a government. He'd be impressed if the matter got anyone's attention before a month was out. Ciena had thought the same thing. Someone like Colonel Gran could probably go to ground in the Outer Rim for years, and no one but them was in a position to catch him first. Thane had to finally put his foot down, and tell her straight out that this time they weren't going.

“Coming out of hyperspace now,” she informed him. After a week spent following rumors of Gran from one world to another, they'd picked up a tip from a Devaronian smuggler they'd dug out of a shallow grave he'd been burred alive in. The man who might be Gran was heading to a rendezvous in the Baros system. And he was bringing a cargo load of illegal, and very lethal, ion disruptors with him.

“Preparing for revert to realspace,” Thane announced, flipping controls on the co-pilots console. Their ship was a battered old alliance U-wing Thane had scrounged up amid the military surplus sales. It was in pretty good shape aside from the long s-foils that had been cut off close to the cockpit, but the cramped interior had needed some refurbishing to be a comfortable ship for civilian travel. The whole one-room passenger area wasn't really the best for privacy, but as long as he was flying around with Ciena, Thane considered that more of a plus.

“System set,” Ciena replied, as they went through flying procedures together with practiced ease. “Revert in three, two, one,” she flipped up the switch, and the shining lines on the viewport were pulled back to normal stars. A large planet of dull green and brown rushed up to fill the window, but was partially eclipse by the massive form of an Imperial star destroyer directly in their path.

“BANTHA SHIT,” Thane swore as Ciena jerked them into a sudden dive away from the warship. “Reroute all power to the shields,” she order him while taking the U-wing into a spin to throw off incoming fire.

He was already doing it. “Take us back out away from the system, I'm plotting us a course right out of here. The New Republic fleet can deal with this!” He brought up the nav display. “I think we can make Mon Calamari from here.”

“Sorosuub recyclers,” Ciena said.

“What!?”

Stopping her maneuvers, there was no incoming fire, Ciena tapped at the rear display, magnifying the marks that broke up the uniform greyness of the star destroyers hull. The biggest one, in bright red aurek besh letters, proudly declared 'Sorosuub Air Recyclers: Best in the Galaxy'.”

They spent a moment staring at the various other adds painted on the ships hull, before the com light came on. “They're hailing us,” Thane said unnecessarily, and he and Ciena exchanged a glance before she switched on the com.

“Fancy-flying ship, this is the _Errant Venture_ ,” came a cheerful, alien sounding voice. “You can cool down your engines, we come in peace.”

They spent another moment staring at each other. Ciena nodded at the sensor screen in front of Thane, and without a word they both turned back to their controls. “Star destroyer, this is the private transport _Muunyak_ , please identify your, um, loyalties.”

“We are a private, eh, venture, not associated with the Empire or New Republic. We are currently open for business with all parties, provided they don't bring their own conflicts with them.”

It looked as though he was telling the truth. Half a dozen cruisers were docked along the star destroyers sides, with other small ships flying in and out of the expansive hangar. “You're a cargo ship?”

“More of a mobile spaceport,” the operator replied. “We have a variety of third party retailers on board, in addition to our own shops and services.”

“What exactly do you sell?” Ciena asked.

“What do you want to buy?”

“I have a full reading on them,” Thane said quietly. “I'm detecting about one third of the weapons systems a star destroyer should have, and most of them are powered down. No shields are up. No standard Imperial com chatter, but enough civilian talking to make up a good-sized city. Either he's telling the truth, or its a really good con-job.”

“Do you suppose we should risk it?” Ciena asked.

“I still vote we go home.”

Ciena tapped the controls thoughtfully for a moment, before nodding. “It can't hurt to come board and have a look around. A least see if we can pick up a word on Gran.”

“He probably went planets-side,” Thane argued.

“All the traffic in-system seems to be going to the star destroyer.”

“So the planet is less obvious.”

“I hear its inhabited by primitive aliens. Which do you think an ISB fanatic like Gran would prefer”

They were directed to the main hangar bay, and cruised slowly up to the landing pad. It was a surreal experience; they both knew the features of an Imperial star destroyer by heart, but the _Venture_ had been severely altered by it's new owners. Walls had been knocked out to expand the main landing pad to almost twice its normal size, and it was filled with all the varied and bizarre ships you would expect of an Out Rim space port. The hangar floor itself had been retiled in a tan that must have once been bright, rather than the dark grey it should have been. It was covered in the scattered dings of clumsy landing gear and blackened marks of engine exhaust, which would have long since been fixed up on any proper Imperial ship.

They landed at the open spot the traffic control directed them to, and were immediately met by two security guards at the boarding hatch.They were a human and a duros, both with big welcoming smiles, and big blaster pistols holstered at their sides. They wore uniforms that were modeled after Imperial styles, but with bodies and hats that had been dyed green, and arms and legs that were bright yellow. They kind of hurt the eye to look at.

“I hope you have a good time,” the duros smiled as he handed them a pair of small map datapads; after they had given their names and paid a docking fee that was just boarder-line theft. “Just remember, we have a pretty severe policy about troublemakers. We catch you fighting, stealing, or panhandling, you get a nice long stay in whatever passes for a detention center on the nearest inhabited world. They catch you cheating at the casinos, and you go out the airlock. And remember, no riding transports or live stalk in the passageways.”

“Exciting place,” Thane patted his concealed blaster reassuringly as they made their way to the main hangar door, open wide under a large shining sign of the ships name. “Betcha the next guards will tell us off for loitering, then offer us coupons for free drinks with every purchase.”

“I have a feeling we've reached the end of the trail,” Ciena didn't acknowledge his joke. “If Gran wanted to make some kind of arms deal, a place this chaotic would be the perfect cover. I bet every crime syndicate from Black Sun to Crimson Dawn has agents working here!”

“Well, we'd better find out where hes going after this,” Thane retorted firmly. “And call the New Republic with definite proof so they can pick him up. Because if there's any kind of deal going on, no way are we going to break it up by ourselves.”

Ciena scowled at him, but her eyes were soft. “Don't you try to become the sensible one on me.”

“Become?”

“Still, I think your wrong this time Thane,” the small smile slipped from Sienna’s face, replaced by a firm determination. “Something is going to happen here, I can almost feel it. Those who were hurt by the Empire will get justice. Whether its the will of the Force, or the struggle of free people, it must be done.”

Thane snorted. “If _the Force_ wants to send us a little help, I won't turn it down. In the meantime, we stay out of arms reach on this one!”

The two of them walked on into the ships expanded passageways, doing there best to look just like a pair of anonymous travelers checking out a local oddity. Neither noticed the midsized freighter that landed just as they left the hangar. Or the two beings who got off it.

One was a human, tall and slim, with blue eyes and blue black hair. Two small scars marked his left cheek, and another marred his forehead above the right eyebrow. The other was humanoid, but blue skinned, with glowing red eyes, and dark black hair. The first strode casually, seeming entirely relaxed even as his eyes would quickly dart across the chamber to seek out easy marks and quick escape routs. The second walked erect and purposeful, his gaze sweeping gradually and openly as it took in every detail of the ship.

“Quite the place,” Ezra comment as they finished an identical encounter with the paroling security guards. “This Terrik guy must really like to put on a show.”

“It's calculated,” his companion remarked. “Captain Terrik certainly thinks very highly of himself; and believes in self-promotion, as a business practice at least. But the degree to which he takes it, to the edge absurdity, is inconsistent with his demonstrated intelligence. It is likely a facade, at least partially, meant to make potential opponents overconfident in dealing with him.”

“Playing down how smart he is? Kind of the opposite of most smugglers I've met then,” Ezra grinned. “Maybe before we leave you two can have a talk about strategy over a dejarik game.”

“Perhaps, but for the moment we must focus on finding our supplier,” Thrawn scanned the crowd as they moved deeper into the ship. “It is imperative we secure our order, and depart with as little delay as possible. We should avoid unnecessary entanglements.”

“On a mission this easy,” Ezra countered. “What could go wrong?”

 

 

**Please review!!**

 


	2. Chapter 2

Ciena and Thane strolled along the expanded corridors of the re-appropriated star destroyer, trying to maintain focus in spite of the bizarre spectacle all around them. Office spaces now served as merchant shops, musicians played at intersections, large briefing rooms were stages for alien acrobats, and the smell of exotic food was never faint.

Even after their recent years criss-crossing the galaxy, in war and in peace, the two were bemused by the size and variety this display of galactic life had to offer. Ciena reached one hand toward the wrist of the other, clutching at the new bracelet of muunyak hyde leather. "Look through my eyes."

Identifying their location as part of "Blue Level," a section that dominated the middle of the ship, they steered away from the most dense clutter of shops marked out as "Trader Alley," and came to a stop at a freeze-drinks kiosk to try and get some bearings. The server was located in a large open courtyard, rising three levels high. Beyond the top railing they could spot the beginning of "Diamond Level," which appeared to be somewhat less crowded, and noticeably better decked out. But what really drew their attention was a massive moving holo-murial, that apparently depicted the historic capture of the mighty vessel.

"The battle of Yag'Dhul," Thane commented thoughtfully "I think I remember hearing about that in the news on the Inner Rim liberations." He raised an eyebrow as he looked over the display of an armada of star destroyers, besieging a Rebel fleet centered around a large space station. "Except I'd swear I heard it was a small skirmish between a few local defenses."

"These are smugglers and salesmen we're talking about," Ciena waved it away as she went through her datapad map. "Appearance is everything. More important, we need a smarter search plan than just wandering around. We have to get some intel on where the best places are for an illegal transaction; every spaceport has them, and I imagine this ship surpasses most." She glanced at her chronometer. "We might have to get some rooms while we're here, unless you want to stay on the ship.

"This is hopeless," Thane shook his head, eyeing a passing couple that looked a lot like Han Solo and Leia Organa, and had probably put a lot of effort into the attempt. "Gran could hold any deal he wants out in public and odds are we'd never find him. The ships just too big and too crowded to look for him without a good lead."

"The only definite things we have on Gran are his appearance, and the fact that he's probably flying a Skipray Blastboat." Ciena remained proactive. "We might narrow down our search if we could find out where on the ship he docked."

"There's more than a dozen landing-pads," Thane countered as he examined his own datapad. "And some are private and restricted. We couldn't search them all."

"The ships main computer should have a record of all dockings."

"But not on the public files, and we don't know the first thing about data slicing!"

"We wouldn't need to have any security clearance," Ciena said thoughtfully. "If we start out from a terminal already linked to the restricted files."

"No," Thane thought he saw where this was going, and he didn't like it. "Absolutely not!"

 

* * *

 

 

In another part of Blue Level, Ezra dug into a plate of fried avian with gusto, savoring the taste of the Outer Rim spices it had been cooked in. Across from him in their booth, Thrawn ate his own meal at a more sedate pace. Allowing himself to get lost in a mental exercise as they waited, the chiss was focusing on the song a Pa'lowick soprano sang from the far side of the restaurant. It was a Huttese song, but rewritten around an alien melody he couldn't identify. The former Imperial took note of the syntax structure and informal use of proper nouns, commonly associated with the vernacular of the Hutt moon of Nar Shadda. Thrawn mentally recited a list of all the alien races known to be found on the moon in large numbers, trying to find a cultural influence that matched the morphed rhythm.

"Heads up," Ezra whispered as he glanced discretely toward the entrance. Out of the corner of his eye, Thrawn took note of the man who had just walked in. A human in his mid thirties, with close cropped hair and a severe, emotionless face. A blaster hung at his side, and as he walked his right arm never strayed from hovering above it. That way of carrying oneself was a common sight in spaceports like this, but the man was no smuggler or hired gun. His stiff and upright posture betrayed the habits of a long military career.

The man gave a good effort at appearing casual as he made his way through the crowd of diners. The Pa'lowick had just finished her number, and was bowing to the smattering of applause. The human walked up and handed her a few credit notes, evidently making a request. The alien singer nodded with a grin, and at her command the musicians broke out into a lively, and rather loud, melody.

The man made his way across the room until he stopped at Ezra and Thrawn's booth, looking the pair over with a critical eye before speaking. "Now there's a meal a wookie would turn up its nose at."

"Funny, I think the chef is a trandoshan," Ezra gave his half of their prearranged code phrases.

The man nodded, and with just a moments hesitation, slid into the booth next to Ezra.

Thrawn got straight to the point. With the loud song affectively drowning out their conversation, he leaned forward with hands clasped. "When will your people be ready?"

"The boss is going to bring the shipment in a piece at a time, to keep it out of the notice of Terrik's security. The trade will go down at nineteen hundred, at the _Neebray Manta_ auction house. The shipment will be marked as vintage Alderaanian hunting rifles."

"That should be sufficient," Thrawn nodded. "inform your boss that we will meet him there."

"I will," the man nodded, his gaze and voice somehow turning harder. "I will also give him a report on the status of our compensation."

Next to him, Ezra smoothly pulled out a small pack of his belt, dumping the contents unto the cushion between him and the agent. The golden credit pieces glinted dully in the dim light. The man casually lowered a hand to finger the money, likely submitting it to some concealed test of its quality. Satisfied, he dropped the single unit back on the pile, as he fixed Thrawn with a glare. "You'd better have it all when the auction goes down. If you cross us, well, on a ship like this one, any mishap befalling two anonymous spacers isn't likely to reach the attention of any credible law enforcement."

"Of course," Thrawn nodded. "Tell your boss he has nothing to fear, we are not here to make trouble."

The man stood up, nodding at the two as he oh so casually rested a hand on his holstered blaster. Neither of them reacted. Ezra dove back into his dinner, having barely resisted the urge to lift the mans wallet just to see his reaction. Thrawn was already playing back the memory of that last song, rapt in the mental puzzle of it.

But after the man left, Ezra looked up. "Are we sure that we're not going to finish this too soon? We don't want to leave ahead of the Zar'cali, and it will probably look kind of suspicious if we loiter."

"I'm fairly certain," Thrawn didn't even look up. "The general has never been slow to snatch low hanging fruit. And he won't be able to resist this. He personally _needs_ to kill us; really more than he needs to win, which he can't at this point."

"And your sure we've been spotted by now?"

"Undoubtedly, we were probably identified the second we departed our shuttle. Based on their movements, the Zar'cali are operating somewhere relatively close to our current location, and the good general is probably on his way already. And if he should miss us here, he'll simply come all the more quickly to the next trap we set."

Ezra frowned thoughtfully, "I don't know, I've gotten a feeling this isn't going to go smooth after all."

At this Thrawn looked up, his red eyes analyzing his companion. "Do you feel anything specific?"

The jedi mulled it over for a moment. "It's like when there's a quiet, steady sound in the room, and you can faintly hear it under all the other noise. I've just got the feeling something else is going on here, something we're going to get dragged into."

Most beings would have dismissed this out of hand. Thrawn had learned better. "It would be best if we keep our eyes open then," he said thoughtfully. "Adapting to new challenges is something we both have great experience in; and if we can identify the danger before it strikes, then we have already won half the battle."

"Well, be sure to keep doing your surveillance droid routine to everyone we meet," Ezra was only half joking. "And let me know when you spot some glowing green eyes."

 

* * *

 

 

On an imperial star destroyer, nearly every activity was recorded and documented, and that included all the comings and goings of smaller craft. True, the _Venture_ might not be a tightly run warship anymore, but it stood to reason that the people who ran it would still keep records of arrivals and departures.

The data offices, which would have access to all the record logs, were located at three sites throughout the ships main body.

Or at least, they should have been.

The main data office had been taken out, along with most of the rooms around it, because the location had made sense to someone for an indoor swimming pool. Another should have been on what was now Diamond Level, which was inaccessible to those who couldn't pay. Luckily, the last office still stood in the thinly furnished Black Level, albeit moved about twenty meters to the rear to make room for a casino that didn't seem to be getting much business.

A normal data center would have about eight crewmen on any given shift. The _Venture_ had three crewman and two data droids. At present, one of the droids was waiting in maintenance, and one of the crewmen was sleeping off a hangover.

A frowning Sullustan glared at his console screen, filing streams of information into the log too fast to actually take notice of anything it said. Muttering into his sagging cheeks, he made a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement as the unshaven human working under him walked past to refill the data disks used as a backup physical storage. The man stopped to deliver a hopeful but brief stream of chatter to open some kind of conversation, which his alien boss persistently ignored. The data disks had to be replaced once a week, and the human had been thinking up clever observations for days now. Eventually accepting his rebuffment, he went on to refill the disks and return without comment to his own console. The rooms only other occupant, a G2 repair droid, worked silently to reprogram a glitching computer terminal.

There followed several hours of the three quietly slaving at a five person job, before the Sullustan went out to a late lunch as he always did. He could have saved time and a little money by bringing his own meals, but then his coworkers would try to converse with him.

Just a moment after he left, the monotonous routine was broken up by a knock on the door.

The remaining worker looked up in surprise. They got a fair amount of foot traffic in the halls from being so close to a few attractions, but there was a fairly clear 'Staff Only' sign that usually kept people away. The knock came again, and with a hesitant glance to confirm he was the last person left in the room, he got up and sauntered over to it. With a sticking shudder it opened, revealing a blond human youth on the other side

"Good morning," the stranger smiled at him.

"Is it?" The man glanced at his chronometer, looking back up to peer at the visitor with spectacle-like work goggles that exaggerated his eyes a bit. "I could have sworn it was past lunch already. But sometimes when the work piles up shifts can run rather long, and I look up and it's well past midnight already. I didn't think it had happened again, I could have sworn Mul only just went to lunch, though I guess it was probably dinner. Suppose that means I should probably mosey out to get something myself; I been meaning to go to this alien pl-"

"No, no I was just saying hello," the young man held up his hands for a pause. "It's just a little past lunch actually."

"Oh," the man glanced back at his work station, the debris of his own lunch still littered about. "I see your right. That's the thing about this kind of work, it's like being stuck drifting in space for a while. You lose track of time and it's hard to tell if a few minutes went by, or a couple hours. We don't get many interruptions, and even less visitors. Why the last one was back when the ship was parked over the jewel moon of-"

"Yah, Im not, not really here as a visitor," Thane ran his eyes over the room as he confirmed that there was no one else at their stations. There were also none of the security cams a data center should have; the people in charge apparently skimped on the refurbishing when they moved the station. He casually slipped one hand into his pocket, and clicked his comlink once, the signal he was in position. "I was sort of hoping you could give me some help."

"Help? We'll we're not exactly customer service around here." The man scratched his beard thoughtfully. "What do you need?"

Thane hesitated for a moment. The various scenarios they had thought up ran through his mind; everything from having lost a younger sibling to wanting to use the shipboard com for an extra romantic proposal. It had been tricky trying to pick one, as they couldn't know for sure what would draw the attention of all the workers. Well, there were a few ideas guaranteed to distract, but they didn't want to bring security down on themselves.

Based on this conversationally deprived office worker, they needn't have worried. "I was wondering if you could, eh, recommend a good restaurant around here?"

The mans eyes lit up."Oh, well if you're a lover of slow roast like myself, then you have to try . . ."

As he talked, Thane sent out two clicks. On the other side of the room, another hall door slid open, and Ciena crept in on bare-feet. As the man got on to a dilemma over the merits of stir-fry versus grilled, she slid up to an active console and began calling up ship-wide records.

 

* * *

 

 

Thane rubbed a spot above his eyes with one palm. _I can't believe that worked._ "So" he spoke softly into his comlink, eyeing passers by incase any were listening. "What have we got?"

"A match! Two in fact," Ciena responded as she walked down another hall in the opposite direction. They thought it would be best to not be spotted leaving the area of the crime together, just in case someone had been watching. "There are Skipray Blastboats parked in hangars 17B and 348, neither of which are private."

"Doesn't necessarily mean either is Gran,," Thane cautioned at the excitement in her voice. "But I guess it's a start."

"We need to move quickly, we don't know what his timetable might be," Ciena plowed on. "I'm going to go take a look at the first hangar, you get the second."

"Just a _look_ ," Thane nagged. "If you do see Gran, don't go trying to take him prisoner all by himself. The guy was a stormtrooper _and_ an ISB star."

"I'm not exactly a rookie here," Ciena retorted. "I'm going to watch my back, and you be sure and watch yours too. Gran's probably got some thug muscle with him, and they might be keeping an eye out for anyone getting too nosey."

"Right," Thane nodded, and then with just a little wry smirk. "May the Force be with you."

On her end Ciena grinned back. "And also with you."

She switched off her comlink, stashing it in a pocket where she could reach it quickly. Ciena took a deep breath to relax her anxiety as she mingled with the other travelers on the ship, trying to look just like any one of them. She did her best to walk at a casual pace, fighting the urge to break out into a sprint, as if every second gave her quarry more time to slip away. For all she knew, it did.

Ciena walked up to the nearest turbolift, impatiently jamming the button for a car. After several moments the door slid open, revealing two green and yellow security officers. "Going up? One asked, with a smile.

"No thank you," she replied in her best innocent smile in return. "I'll get the next one."

With fluid movements, both men pulled out their blaster pistols, leveling them at her with the spring-click sound of the primers being cocked. "Sorry miss," the man was still smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes anymore. "But you'll be taking this one."

 

* * *

 

 

Thane walked through docking bay 348, trying to look everywhere without _looking_ like he was looking. It was a medium sized hangar for a warship this big, and it was only half filled with ships. A Skipray Blastboat sat about in the middle , impossible to miss. As far as Thane could tell, it looked entirely ordinary.

_Now what?_

There was nothing to give away any clues as to whom the ship belonged to, and he didn't fancy his chances of breaking into a medium-grade warship without being noticed. And he couldn't just walk in a casual circle around the thing hoping the owner showed up.

Thane glanced at a hangar crewmen walking by, in a faded but tough looking jumpsuit meant to stand up to arc welder sparks and fusion cutter blades. One of the them might be able to describe the owner, but could he convince them to tell him. If they were veterans of the Outer Rim, that meant anyone working on this ship wasn't likely to fall for any story he could make up about who he was or why he was asking. It also meant any crewman would likely take a bribe, but Thane didn't think they'd have enough to pay it.

But maybe there was such a thing as the Force, because when Thane had almost completed a full circle around the hangar, the ships owner showed up. Thane noticed him almost the second he walked into the big room, with the stiff posture and unfriendly glare he had seen on countless Imperial officers. The former rebel ducted toward a public console set up on one wall, and made as if he was looking up a map while he watched the man walk past out of the corner of one eye. Without hesitating, he walked straight to the Blastboat, opened it up, and boarded.

_Got ya!_

Thane pulled out his communicator, and thumbed it on, trying to quiet the nerves that were starting to rise in him. Unless Ciena actually _saw_ Hernan Gran marching about in the other hangar, he was certain he'd found the ship. But now came the really tricking par-

"I don't know if you are planing to grab him or kill him, but if you keep this up he'll do it to you first."

Thane whirled around on the figure who had walked up behind him, stepping back as he pulled out his concealed blaster. But the being reached out and grabbed his arms in surprisingly vice-like hands. Thane was stuck at close quarters with the alien creature, his blaster arm trapped at mid-draw by the iron grip.

The alien was almost as tall as him, it's head protruding turtle-like out of its long travelers cloak. It had a broad face with a short, stubby beaked snout, and a crest of small dark ridges that ran along either side of it's flat forehead. The rest of the very dark greyish blue skin on its head was smooth, but it's long neck was softly wrinkled. It peered at him with narrow eyes that almost looked amused, and were a stunning emerald green.

"What- what are you talking about!" Thane glanced around, wondering if it would be a good idea to yell for help.

The creature showed no apparent effort as it held him in place, its dark blunt claws digging into his arms. "I'm going to let go, and if you stay and talk you might be very interested in what I have to say."

With that he released his grip, and Thane banged his shoulder against the wall backing up. Without breaking eye contact, and with a breath to calm himself, he re-holstered his blaster, pulling his arm back out slowly. "What do you want?"

You're hunting those men," the alien nodded back toward the Blastboat. "Those former warriors of the Empire." His green eyes seemed to flash. "Would you like to ensnare a bigger prize?

**I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. I kinda got writers block on how Thane and Ciena could get the confidential records, given their relatively limited skillset. It's kind of a stretch, but it comparable to things they did in Clone Wars and Rebels, so I guess it could be passable.**

 


	3. Chapter 3

The guards weren't too gentle about shoving Ciena into one of the chairs in front of the office desk. She was kind of surprised that she had been taken to an office rather than a holding cell. Specifically, it was the executive office room that would have been reserved for an admiral or some other senior commander.

Not that anyone who didn't know the inside of a star destroyer would have ever recognized it.

The room was littered with just about every piece of techno junk and space trash a being could imagine; and an executive office was a fairly big room. Half built machinery leaned against large chunks of rock. Tilting stacks of datacards stood on chairs to keep them out of fuel and grease puddles leaking out onto the floor. Dirty clothes were piled on one side of the desk, leftovers from half eaten meals on the other. Almost all of one end of the room was taken up by a flight simulator pod; with a cockpit configuration similar to an x-wing. Ciena had to stretch out her legs a little farther than was comfortable, to avoid putting her feet on the upper half of a work droid that was lying in front of her chair.

But there was nothing in the room that stood out more than the man sitting behind the desk. He was a big man; broad shouldered, with hands that looked like they could bend durasteel. His short cropped hair and goatee were dark, except for the bands of grey spreading over either ear. He starred at her with one brown eye, and an artificial red one.

This must be Booster Terrik; the brilliant smuggler who captured this star destroyer in a heroic battle with the Imperial fleet, according to himself.

When Terrik didn't speak immediately, Ciena decided to try first. If they already knew she and Thane had snuck into data office, then she probably couldn't play innocent. But maybe if she could think of a believable, nonhurtful reason . . “Sir, um captain, I th-”

“You aren't one of Doole's people.” Terrik said suddenly,

“Um,” Ciena blinked. “Who?”

“That little slimo was breathing down my neck the whole time we orbited Kessel a week back, trying to figure out what I was sneaking past him.” Captain Terrick raised both hands in a gesture of innocence that didn't quite match his face. “Not that I engage in any clandestine businesses any more, of course. Everything on this ship is entirely aboveboard.”

_Which is why Gran chose this place to sell his illegal weapons_ , Ciena tried to keep the skepticism off of her face.

“But Doole's got enough brains, and deep pockets, to only hire professionals,” the smuggler captain. “So what is an _armature_ doing, trying to get into my ship's files?” He looked straight at her, his real brown eye more piercing than the red one.

Ciena sighed, and put on her best sabacc face, and met his gaze directly. “I'm trying to find someone. I have an uncle, who left his-”

_BAMB_ , Captain Terrick slapped his open palm onto the desk, sending datacards rattling as the sound seemed like thunder in the confined office. “Get one of the trash compactors ready,” he said to the guards behind her. “And then go pick up her little friend and bring him u-”

Ciena leapt to her feet leaning against the desk to put herself face to face with the captain. “We're hunting a murderer,” she growled, trying not to think about the guards behind her, who had both drawn their blaster pistols. “And I _know_ he's on this ship!”

Un-phased, Terrick gave her a look of flippant mock-surprise. “A murderer, on _my_ ship.” He leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap. “Anyone I'd know? Bounty hunter? A cartel holdout? I hope for your sake it's not a mandalorian.”

“Hernan Gran,” Ciena said.

That got a reaction. Terrik froze, then leaned forward to sit upright, eyeing her with a wary, searching gaze. “Oh I've heard of him alright,” the humor had gone out of the smugglers voice. “Most wanted number five. The Butcher of New Cov.”

“He's here,” Ciena pressed on. “He came to this ship to meet someone, and he's got a cargo of ion disrupters ready to sell.”

For the first time Terrik's sabacc face broke entirely, eyes widening and face going pale. “We don't allow cargo like that on the Venture.”

“He's doing it anyway,” Ciena insisted. “Do you want him to get away with whatever he is up to, or will you let me go so we can stop him?”

The smuggler was staring off at the wall now, scratching his goatee thoughtfully with one hand as the other drummed his fingers on the desk. “May be I can do a little better,” he looked up at her with a smile. “The New Republic will pay a pretty hansom price for the fifth most wanted Imperial in the galaxy.”

 

* * *

 

Crouched in a dark hallway, Thane gazed critically at the holo-recording the alien showed him, comparing it to the images on his datapad. The being recorded browsing the stalls of Traders Alley didn't look remarkable at all; aside from the dark glasses that covered his eyes. He would have assumed the being to be a pantoran, and the alien didn't carry himself at all like life long military officers did.

But when he looked at the file images the New Republic had on Grand Admiral Thrawn, there was a strong resemblance; the same tall forehead, and sharp jaw. And the man seemed particularly interested in the art stalls.

Thane had never met the alien grand admiral, and knew little about him other than a few times he'd been mentioned at the Academy. But it was not hard to find his long track list of crimes. For years before the Battle of Yavin he'd been the terror of the Outer Rim, crushing worlds and uprisings with brutal efficiency. Few Imperial commanders could match his record of success in defeating rebel groups. And now he might be here, meeting with Hernan Gran.

“When he was defeated by the Rebel Alliance, the Emperor punished Thrawn by sending him to the edge of wild space,” The alien being, who'd identified himself as Talmec, explained as he played the recording. “He brought all the crimes of the Empire to our worlds, and has subjected my own home to a despotic puppet regime.” The aliens voice was quiet, but there was an intensity to his words. “While the Empire may have fallen, Thrawn has held his own personal kingdom together, out of the eyes and reach of your New Republic.”

Thane was a born skeptic, but it was possible. After his last confirmed appearance at the Liberation of Lothal, Alliance intel had declared Thrawn missing-in-action rather than dead. It was only shortly after the Battle of Jakku that he'd been declared killed-in-action, and before then a reward for more information was attached to his file. It wouldn't be the craziest thing he'd seen if this alien was telling the truth.

The reports about the Liberation of Lothal all seemed karking sketchy anyway. Supposedly, Thrawn's fleet had been destroyed when it was attacked by _purrgil_ . This may or may not have been caused by a jedi wannabe named Commander Bridger, who was also missing.

Thane decided to call some people he still new in the navy, and ask them to make an inquiry about that the Lothal files. The public ones he could access sounded less like a battle summary and more like a drunken bar story.

But he still wasn't going to jump in on this blindly. “If this Grand Admiral really is still hanging on in wild space, why come back?” he pressed. “It would be crazy for him to risk drawing attention to himself. From what we know Gran is here to hand off a cargo of ion disrupters; those are some serious weapons, but they're not worth that much to someone in a position like Thrawn's. At the very least it'd be smarter to send someone else; why come in person?”

“This is likely more than just a weapons deal,” Talmec hissed back. “If he and this Gran survived the war, how many others did too. Have you not heard the same rumors we have, of imperial forces escaping destruction, of whole ships fleeing into the uncharted reaches of the galaxy. How valuable might it be for a warrior like Thrawn, to bring all the remnants of the Empire into his hands? And who would be better help find them than an ISB agent?”

Thane knew there was a good chance that was a leap; but if it wasn't . . . “What exactly are you proposing?”

“We help each other,” the aliens eyes bore into him. “I have people on this ship, warriors of proven metal. And we know when the Imperials will meet. We can take them now, while they are vulnerable, and bring them to justice. There may never be a better time!”

“Okay,” the human nodded. “I'd be up for it. But I need to call my friend and ta-.”

He was cut of when his comlink buzzed. Hesitantly, eyeing the alien, he answered it.

“Hey,” Ciena's voice sounded about how he felt, kind of sheepish. “I think I might have got us some help.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this took, I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**I started this as a short story for while I had writers block on another one. Thought it would only be about four chapters. At present, I'm not sure how far it's going to go.**

 

 

Ciena stood in what should have been the _Venture_ 's ISB office, resisting the urge to pace with nervousness.

As Terrik and his green-and-yellow suited men stood by their monitors, she sent a sideways glance at the to aliens who waited in the room with them. Calling themselves the Zar'cali, they claimed to hail from a world farther into wild space. She had never heard of them, and neither had Terrik or any of his people. He'd agreed to let them join in this “little bounty hunt,” but only allowed them into the security office unarmed.

Elderly looking, with a posture that stooped forward, the leader Talmec and his aid sat at the staff table as they all waited for any word from Thane. They appeared patient, but Ciena had learned enough about combat to recognize the subtle tension buzzing in both of them, like predators waiting to spring.

She couldn't shake the uneasy feeling they gave her, but in truth it was probably just the situation. Captain Terrik's people had dug through their security records, and found that Gran was presenting something at an auction hall off Traders Alley. It was almost certainly the place his deal with the being who might be Thrawn would go down.

Here in the security office, they waited for their targets to be positively ID'ed, at which point they would signal the security team to move in and grab the Imperials. It was Thane who was taking the risk of actually going to the auction hall, with just one disguised Zar'cali as back up. Apparently Terrik also had at least one security officer planted among the buyers, but Ciena wasn't entirely sure she trusted his people.

One of them had to be there to tell for sure if it was Gran, and Thane had argued strongly that it was better if he tried. His career in the Imperial Navy had been much shorter, and there was a smaller chance Gran or his lackeys would recognize him, as opposed to a former star destroyer captain. Normally Ciena wouldn't have agreed to it, but Terrik and Talmec had been in favor of it, and time was short.

She should probably switch her position to the security team, and be there to help Thane if anything went wrong. She clutched at the leather bracelet on her wrist, trying to reassure herself. It was dangerous enough when it was just Gran in the equation. Now, if their new alien friends were to be believed, they might also have to face off against an even more cunning, and maybe even equally ruthless criminal in the form of this grand admiral. It was too dangerous for Thane to do alone, she should don some spacers clothes and helmet and go back him up in disguise; there had to be outfits like that all over this ship. There should still be time t-

“Wampa to captain, come in captain,” Everyones attention was drawn to the monitor com. Terrik got to it first. “This is captain,” he'd insisted on the code names, which struck Ciena as unnecessarily dramatic. “Do you have eyes on the targets?”

 

* * *

  
“Not yet,” Thane spoke at the hooded Zar'cali sitting next to him. He's been given a pair of goggles, with a small relay implanted in them, which would allow him and the security office to communicate as he pantomimed talking to his companion.

The goggles also hid the fact that his eyes swept across the room, looking for either of their targets. With several rows of seats facing a small stage, the auction hall could have fit maybe fifty or sixty beings. There were now less then two dozen. Thane and his backup sat off to one side, out of the way of anyones interest. A steady stream of junk that some beings considered valuable was being presented, and the wait was getting tedious. He fiddled with the number paddle he'd been given, wondering if he should try to bid on something to avoid looking suspicious. “How much longer is this auction supposed to last?”

“One hour,” the smuggler Terrik replied. “It can't be long now, unless your alien friend was spotted and they've had us.” The biggest concern most of them had was that espionage veterans like Gran and Thrawn would notice something suspicious and try to make a run for it; which was why Terrik was keeping the visible presence of his security around the auction site to a minimum, even undercover agents. He hadn't wanted the Zar'cali there either, but Talmec insisted they needed to positively ID Thrawn, so one heavily robbed and hooded alien had gone with Thane.

If their cover had been blown, Terrik had people watching the ships they both came in, and insisted the star destroyers formidable close range defenses were ready to blast them out of the stars if they somehow made it past security. Based on the sensor reading he'd gotten flying in, Thane wasn't sure the ship was up to the job.

A sample of exotic pottery that some alien species apparently molded from their own mucus just sold for small change to an older chevin female, and Thane was tempted to go out and get a drink if the Imperials didn't show up soon. Then a tall being walked into the auction hall, and the Zar'cali spoke something that sounded like a curse under its breath.

It was the same blue skinned, dark haired alien that Talmec had recorded, wearing the same dark heavy glasses. Alone, and with a reinforced credit case in one hand. Striding purposefully down the aisle, he stopped in the second row of seats, and sat down with exaggerated care, leaning the case against his leg.

“Thrawn,” the alien next to Thane muttered in heavily accented basic. The former rebel pilot nodded, turning to him as if to talk as he softly spoke for the receiver to pick up. “Womp rat Two is in the building,” he announced. “No sign of Womp rat One.”

A vintage pilots helmet from Naboo was sold next, to a short spacer in a ratty suit currently wearing a battered Imperial pilots helmet. The protocol droid taking bids called for attention as two men stepped out of the stages side door bearing the next item. Settling a large hover-crate on the stage, they opened it and pulled out an antique-looking rifle. Long-barreled an thin, it appeared to old and fragile to use.

Thane almost didn't notice the men who walked in, but when he did he fought down a gulp in the back of his throat. Part of him had never really believed they'd catch Hernan Gran, and he'd been just fine with that.

The aging human didn't look like a pitiless war criminal, or fit for military service of any kind. Gray haired and somewhat overweight, with deeply jowled face, a wide scowling mouth, and wet deep-set eyes. He looked completely inconspicuous in the cheap business clothes he wore, and his eyes scanned the room with disinterest as he casually walked down the aisle and sat just one seat away from the blue glasses wearer. He was accompanied by a younger, fitter man who couldn't look less military, or out of place in civilian clothes

“Captain,” Thane mumbled into the receiver. “Womp rat one is in the building.”

 

* * *

  
“Perfect,” Terrik beat his fist on the console, and patted his crewman on the shoulder. “Call up Fyg and tell him to go in.”

“We should pull Thane out,” Ciena insisted. “Those two aren't going to come quietly, get them out now!”

“Thrawn will suspect,” Talmec spoke up. “We must give him no clue, until we have our claws around his throat.”

“They already are,” Terrik brushed off his objections. “I don't care how good you think this grand admiral is, no way he's slipping away from my people.”

The alien's green eyes narrowed, and he growled faintly in his throat, but nodded. “As you will, captain.”

 

* * *

  
“Bout dawn time,” Thane mumbled as he and the Zar'cali stood and began filing out of the hall. None of the disguised Imperials paid them any mind. Gran could have been an android for all the emotion he showed, and Thrawn was trying to outbid a one-eyed devaronian for the rifles. Thane took note of the large scrape mark marring the side of the crate on stage, scratching up the exact spot where the Imperial symbol would have sat on military cargo.

“The deals going down now,” He whispered to his partners back in the office. “The rifles are the disruptors. Thrawn's got th-”

And when they reached the aisle, the alien warrior drew out a blaster and shot a stunbolt into the imperial admirals back.

“What the F-,” Thane was sent sprawling by a back handed blow from the powerful alien as it tore off its hood and howled in triumph. Chaos engulfed the whole room as beings bolted from their seats and fled for the nearest exit. On the stage above the protocol droid was bowled over as its two helpers ran for their lives. Blaster bolts rent the air, and the familiar burnt smell of their scorch marks hit his nostrils.

Before he could pick himself up Thane had the wind knocked out of him by a Chadra-Fan stepping on his stomach. As he gulped in a breath he saw something hit the floor off to the side and recognized the chevin through the legs of the bleachers, with a blaster falling out of her hand. Must have been Terrik's disguised agent.

Struggling to push himself up, the confused human found his Zar'cali companion grappling with Colonel Gran over the shot up body of his companion. The former imperial attacked the stronger opponent with surprising speed and savagery. Driving his heavy boot into the reptiles knee he beat his fists into it's neck and stomach; punishing blows aimed at weak spots to inflict maximum pain. With a howling wine of agony the alien struck back and raked it's claws across the humans body, tearing his cloths to shreds.

It didn't bring it any relief, as it's claws scrapped uselessly against the concealed armor worn tight against the Imperials skin. The former stormtrooper landed a blow to it's eyes, beating it down with quick and precise blows as fluid as a well programed droid. As the reptile collapsed against the seats Gran pulled a vibro-blade from his coat, thumbed it on, and was bending down to dispassionately cut the aliens throat when Thane's shot hit him in the skull.

Staggering to his feet, Thane helped pull the Zar'cali back up as he surveyed the now deserted hall. “I hope you feel those in the morning, dammit,” Thane gestured at the reptiles blackened eyes and many bruises. “I don't know what your boss told you, but the _plan_ was we let the security team do the capture!”

Thane stumbled back as he nearly stepped on the imperial officers corps. It was hard to believe he'd just killed him, that one quick shot ended this little adventure for him and Ciena.

Rubbing its long neck, where it had taken several ugly hits, the alien choked out something in its language.

“What?!”

“ Zzzar'ccalllli,” it hissed, coughing violently before it finished. “Wwwe mustt ttake Thhhrawn. Nnot wwwattch, honor demands it be our cllaws that rrake his fflesh!”

Thane wasn't sure if he was being metaphorical or literal about clawing the admiral. “You wanted to almost get us killed for some dumb-ass tradition? Was personally shooting Thrawn worth your life?”

The alien growled out its response, stumbling down the aisle to where Thrawn had fallen. “An alien wouldn't understand, after the shame he visited on our people w-,”

It stopped, and a high-pierced shriek left it's mouth as it fell to its knees. Thane rushed to its side, fearing the alien's wounds may be even worse than they looked, when he realized it was yelling in rage, not pain. The row of seats, where the comatose admiral, should be lying was empty.

 

* * *

  
“What do you mean gone?” Terrik shouted into the com.

“I mean just, gone,” Thane's reply came back anxiously. “I saw the stunbolt hit him, I know it did. But he's not here!”

“Son-of-a-karking,” The captain turned to one of his men. “Call Fyg and find out why the blazes he isn't there yet!” He sprang from his chair and rounded on Talmec, nearly bursting with anger. “Did you order your man to try and capture them by himself!?”

The alien nodded, neither scared or apologetic. “I am sorry it was necessary to deceive you, I would have rather we did it ourselves. But we needed your help to find where they would meet.”

Ciena's hand closed around her blaster handle. “You put them in danger! Thane; one of your own soldiers?”

“And all for nothing,” the alien shook his head. “Thrawn has slipped through our claws again. And now, when we attempt to retake our world, I will have to face him on the battlefield.” He looked up, and Ciena thought the light had gone out of his eyes. “We have nothing left but to try and recoup our loses.”

Terrik palmed his fist, glowering at him. “We've still got Gran at least, his corpse will get us a good price. But you're not getting one credit of it. You can go back to y-”

“Credits are no used to us now,” Talmec shook his head, as he and his companion stood. “But I have some hope that this ship, old and weakened though it is, may bite deep at Thrawn's fleet.”

The humans were too stunned to respond for a moment; Terrik going red as he fought through shock and rage. “Wha-what are you,karking little, get off my ship!”

He went for his blaster, but in the blink of an eye the alien had crossed the room and slashed its clawed hand at the smuggler captains throat.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

****This is where the fun begins!** **

 

“But he's not here!” Thane scanned the room, looking between rows in case the admiral had somehow crawled away after taking the stunbolt.

The Zar'cali had gotten back up, and was taking swipes at a chair cushion, venting its furry as it howled in frustration.

Thane was seriously considering just walking out and leaving. They'ed come here for Gran (well, Ciena had come for Gran, and he'd come for Ciena), and the ex-colonel was out of the picture. He didn't see that they had any reason to keep helping this “little bounty hunt.”

Speaking of which! “Captain, when is that security team getting here?” If Thrawn had somehow escaped, he might not have gotten far. “Captain?”

He scowled, hitting the goggles uselessly. “I'm not getting an answ-”

“The general has mad his move,” the alien had finally stopped punishing the upholstery, and painfully stood up where it had been leaning against a seat.

Before Thane could ask what the hell he was talking about, an alarm pierced through the ship. It blew in a deep, loud boom of sound that faltered, before blaring on in a broken jittering warble. As mangled as it was, from old and poorly maintained equipment, Thane recognized it immediately, as any veteran of the Imperial navy would. The signal to abandon ship.

“What the HELL?” Thane ran his hands through his hair in frustration, wondering what _else_ could go wrong. “Alright let's get back to the others, befo-”

He was cut off by the kzzzk sound of a blaster cocking behind him. Slowly and carefully, he turned around to see the Zar'cali had leveled it's weapon at him. “Terrick has already been taken care of, as well as your companion.”

Something cold dropped into the pit of Thane's stomach, and turned his knees weak. “What happened to Ciena?”

“Hopefully nothing,” The alien actually looked sorry. “You are not our enemies, and if you do not oppose our taking the ship, no harm will come to you.”

“Look,” Thane fought to keep his tone calm and reasonable. “Just because Thrawn escaped doesn't give you the rig-”

“Actually, this was always the plan,” the alien shook his head. “Even had we killed the hated grand admiral, his forces are formidable. This ship will be very useful, even as decrepit as it is.” It gestured toward the door. “Now, start walking. The general will be on the bridge, and if you cooperate th-”

And then there was suddenly a figure leaping up from behind the first row of seats (where Thane was sure he had checked). He seemed to reach the Zar'cali the same instant he appeared, and sent it sprawling to the floor with one strike of his out-raised palm that didn't even connect.

It was the spacer, still in his battered Imp pilot helmet. After and instant of surprise Thane brought his blaster up, but the being already had both hands raised in greeting. “Woah there, I think we might be on the same side here. And even if we weren't, you don't want to do that!”

With one hand he removed the helmet. It was a human, a man who must have been around Thane's own age, though he _looked_ older somehow. He had unusually blue eyes, short-cropped black hair, and two scares marking his left cheek. He grinned, and did not seem at all nervous about being held at blaster point. And he looked vaguely familiar.

“Let me guess,” Thane's trigger finger twitched. “You're here to help me too?”

“Maybe,” the figure replied. “I'm here to fight the Zar'cali, or at least catch general Talmec. But we'll have to deal with their squad first.”

Thane shook his head in exasperation. “What squad?”

“The one that took out Terrick's security team.”

And then the hall's doors burst open, and maybe a dozen Zar'cali charged in; all wearing civilian close, but armed to the teeth.

The man produced a blaster from somewhere, and shot out a flurry of blasterbolts even as he grabbed Thane and pulled him back behind the first row of seats. A shower of laser fire cut the air an inch behind them. Thane was sprawled on the floor, and scrambled to his feet to crouch next to the man, who still looked perfectly calm.

“JEDI,” came a croaking call as the laserbolts tapered off. “We have this ship, and our fleet arrives. You may try to escape, but there's nothing left but to die with honor!”

“Nothing left for which of us?” the jedi mumbled, easing his gaze over the chairs to confirm the count of beings he could sense. Not too many. “How are you with that blaster?”

The click of a blaster-cock at his side grabbed his attention. Keeping half his mind on the Zar'cali, fanning out to keep them pinned, the jedi turned to the man pointing his blaster at him.

“Alright,” Thane spit out through gritted teeth. “Me and my friend came here to bring Gran to justice. Now he's dead, so I don't see any reason to stay. If these nuts and whoever the hell you're with want to fight, I don't care. But they have my friend, so I'm getting her out and we're going. And I have a feeling they'll be happy to let her go if I give them you!”

The supposed jedi raised an eyebrow. “Yah, they probably would be. And I understand what it's like when you've got a friend in trouble, but I'm afraid that's not part of the plan.”

Thane thumbed on the stun setting. “It never goes accor-”

And as his finger tightened around the trigger, Thane was suddenly off the ground, and flying backward, hitting the floor just short of the wall. The blow sent his head ringing. A sudden _snap-hiss_ , and the ringing became a loud hum that . . _what?_ ”

Thane pushed himself up, watching in a confused daze as the man, the _jedi_ , leapt impossibly through the air and came down in the middle of the Zar'cali, the blade of orange light in his hands catching a blaster bolt and sending it back at the nearest attacker.

A dozen more shots came at him, but he'd already charged at the next pair of warriors, slicing through both their blasters in a clean sweep and twirling his blade to cut one then the other across the chest.

Thane hadn't seen anything like this outside of footage from the Clone Wars. The jedi moved almost too fast to follow, his blade an orange blur as the Zar'cali came at him from every side. They snarled war cries and poured on fire, but not one bolt touched him. He balanced impossibly on the backs of bleachers, sent his attackers flying with lightening hits, and even seemed to catch blaster bolts in his palm.

The firefight was over in little more than a minute, and Thane was left pointing his blaster across an empty room, looking over the carnage. “You . . . how did . . . what . .”

“He said they're holding captain Terrick hostage with your friend,” the jedi (the _JEDI_ !) interrupted, thumbing his lightsaber off. Without even looking he extended one hand and called up the Naboo pilot helmet he'd bought, donning it quickly. “Where exactly are they?”

“The ISB office,” Thane responded a little more frantically then he meant too. “Or, what would be the ISB office on a _normal_ star destroyer.”

“That's a pretty secure place; the Zar'cali are probably still keeping them there, if they were taken alive,” he winced, and raised a hand apologetically. “Sorry, it's just that we better move quickly if we're gonna get to them in time.”

“We?” But the jedi was already running out into the hall, and Thane found himself following without thinking. The signal to abandon ship still sounded through the corridors, and the already chaotic vessel had descended into complete mayhem. Beings ran about panicked for the nearest means of escape, or simply because they'd been swept up in the crowd. Vendors scrambled to save as many of their wares as they could, while they fought gamblers juggling armfuls of their winnings. Some alien animal galloped through the halls trailing its leash, and parents held their children up to keep them from being trampled in the melee. Thane was sent pinwheeling his arms as he nearly slipped on a puddle of something alcoholic spilled across the floor, and in the distance he was sure he could hear the roar of swoop bike engines.

None of this stopped the jedi, who ducked and weaved through the crowd with easy. Thane pushed and shoved his way more clumsily, losing sight of the man for a moment before spotting him vault into the air and somersault over a toppled jewelry cart. At last he came to a stop at the nearest turbolift, which opened with a wave of his hand before he even reached it. Thane only just caught up to stumble in as the doors whisked shut.

“Who are you?” He finally asked when the door shut behind them.

The man smiled and held out a hand. “Names Ezra Bridger, nice to meet you.”

“Bridger!?” Thane suddenly realized where his face was familiar from, the files on the Liberation of Lothal. “As in, _commander_ Bridger, from the rebellion?”

“In the flesh,” the turbolift stopped and the doors opened, just long enough for a waiting male Chagrian to start coming in before the man, Bridger, waved his hand and closed it again. “I don't suppose you saw how many troops General Talmec brought with him, did you?”

Thane shook his head in exasperation. “I thought he only had a little crew! How many could there be?”

“We were hoping his whole battle fleet,” the jedi said casually. “Otherwise we'll have to work out another trap after this.”

“Great,” Thane shook his head as the lift came to a stop again, and this time they got off, bowling over an obese Selonian in their way. “When you were making all these brilliant plans, did you think up a way to break into an Imperial holding cell?”

Ezra Bridger grinned ear to ear, as they raced through the star destroyer. “Aw man, this takes me back.”

 

**What I wanted most, after reading The Lost Stars, was to see Thane meet an actual jedi.**

**Please Review!**


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